


Sherlock Holmes and the Great Cake Caper!

by SaraStarchild



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack Fic, Gen, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraStarchild/pseuds/SaraStarchild
Summary: Clara Henley The Cake-Maker has been murdered! Sherlock Holmes solves the crime.





	Sherlock Holmes and the Great Cake Caper!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in May of 2012 - Enjoy~

Once upon a time Sherlock and John were sitting in their flat fighting over John’s computer when SUDDENLY THE PHONE RANG! So John jumped up LIKE A STRAIGHT MAN and picked it up.

“Hello this is John Watson speaking,” John Watson said to the phone.

“Hi, I want Sherlock,” the person on the phone said, so John handed the phone off to Sherlock.

“What the frick you want?” Sherlock asked the phone.

“Sherlock it’s Lestrade but nice gangster impression. Anyways I’ve got a case for you,” Lestrade (the person on the phone) informed him. “Someone’s been murdered and their body is really mangled or some shit cause nobody has any idea who it is at all.”

“OH BOY WE’LL BE RIGHT OVER MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Sherlock shouted and hung up the phone just as Lestrade was shouting “BUT YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE IT IS SHERLOCK WTF.”

“Sherlock it isn’t Christmas it’s April –” John started to remind him but Sherlock shouted over him.

“WE’VE GOT A CASE LET’S GO!” 

* * *

An hour later Sherlock and John arrived on the crime scene – an old, falling apart shack in the middle of nowhere. Lestrade approached them.

“You’re here! I was worried that you had no idea where the crime scene was but didn’t bother calling again cause calling again just to give an address is not my division,” Lestrade explained. “How’d you find this place, anyway?”

“I deduced where the location of the crime scene was by the tone of your voice, DUH,” Sherlock informed him.

“Actually we had no idea where it was – the time-skip-line-break just happened to show up just in time,” John said.

“Shhhhhhhh don’t tell him that.” Sherlock muttered, putting his hand on John’s face.

“I’m right here,” Lestrade reminded him.

“RIGHT! SO. Dead body – let me see it,” Sherlock ordered.

“Alright, it’s really gruesome-looking, though. Anderson couldn’t even look at it.”

“I’M ANDERSON.” Anderson said suddenly.

“We know,” Lestrade said, exasperated. “Ok let’s go look at this thing,” he said, leading Sherlock and John into the shack while Sherlock fangirled like a fangirl while live-blogging the season finale of her favorite show on tumblr.

“DEAD BODY, JAWN,” he exclaimed.

“Yes I know I heard Lestrade –”

“DEAD.”

“Sherlock don’t get too excited, now –”

“BODY.”

“You don’t want to have an accident –”

“JAWN.”

“Yep that is my name –”

“EEEEEEEEEEEE ASLDFJLSDKJF.”

“Oh hey look we’re here,” Lestrade said finally, opening a door in the hallway at the top of the staircase and pointing at the mutilated body on the floor of the fairly small room.

“ALSDJFSADF I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS CASE AND THIS BODY AND – ew gross ok who mangled Clara Henley the cake maker?” Sherlock asked upon seeing the body.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT’S CLARA HENLEY THE CAKE MAKER?!” Lestrade asked, for he was obviously very confused.

“Well OBVIOUSLY cause there’s dried icing caked under her fingernails and a big wave of cake-and-blood-smell hit me as soon as I walked in and also because I happened to notice THIS STRAND OF HAIR on the door frame coming through the door and since I’ve found myself in Clara’s shop on numerous occasions I was able to match her hair color to this strand’s color just by looking at cause I’m Sherlock Holmes, bitch,” Sherlock deduced aloud.

“And Anderson said not to call you,” Lestrade chuckled.

“I’M ANDERSON!” Anderson called from outside.

“NO ONE CARES.” Sherlock shouted. “Also John you’re drooling do something about that,” he ordered, and then looked back at Lestrade. “May I take a look around the crime scene to see who’s done it, now?” he asked politely.

“Oh my god you actually sounded human for a second,” Lestrade said.

“Oh sorry that happens anyways I WILL DEDUCE THE SHIT OUT OF THIS CRIME SCENE!” Sherlock announced.

It took Sherlock about twenty minutes of Sherlocking all over the crime scene – walking around everyone and walking over everything and Anderson –

“I’m Anderson!”

– for him to be able to find enough information and evidence for him to figure out what happened.

“I’VE GOT IT!” Sherlock announced. “Hold onto your hats – I’m just about to be BRILLIANT!” he exclaimed.

And then he spewed.

“This is obviously a kidnap-murder case, if you can’t see that by our location you’re Anderson –”

“I’m Anderson!” Anderson said.

“– Exactly. There’s only two sets of foot prints in the victim’s room so there was obviously only one killer. Now the killer came here by car because there are tire-tracks right by the door. The car was there for approximately thirty-two minutes based on the depth of the track where the car was parked and John and I tested this out and if there was a struggle which there was because there’s a knocked-over-chair in the room where the victim is it would’ve taken fifteen minutes to get out of the car, into the shack, up the stairs and into the room, and the struggle and killing in the room would’ve taken about ten minutes give or take which leaves about five minutes for the killer to get back into his car and drive off. And all of this happened yesterday night judging by the freshness of the tracks. DUH,” Sherlock explained long-windedly. Sergeant Sally Donovan took a nap.

“So you should know who did it then, am I right?” Lestrade asked.

“That I’m not too sure of, but –” Sherlock admitted.

“What? But you get off on this stuff – you should know who did it!” Sergeant Sally Donovan Sergeant Sally Donovaned.

“Let the man finish his sentence!” John defended Sherlock LIKE A STRAIGHT MAN.

“You’re just as bad as Anderson!” Sherlock shouted.

“I’m Anderson!” Anderson reminded everyone.

“Anderson shut up,” Sherlock said. “ANYWAY, I know where we can begin our search for potential suspects! We’re going on a field trip!”

“To where?” Lestrade asked.

“To Mycroft’s!”

* * *

 “Wow those time-skip-line-breaks are just the greatest invention ever,” John stated.

“Yes, they are! Now where’s Mycroft? Doesn’t he know this is a matter of great importance?!” Sherlock exclaimed. “John, text him,” Sherlock ordered.

“Where’s your phone?” John asked.

“In my pocket,” Sherlock said. And so John reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone LIKE A STRAIGHT MAN. While John texted Mycroft Sherlock looked up and noticed that –

“Sergeant Sally Donovan?! Anderson?!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“I’m Anderson!” Anderson Andersoned.

“You’ve made that apparent! But why are you two here? And where’s Lestrade?” Sherlock asked.

“Field trips weren’t his division,” Sergeant Sally Donovan replied, shrugging.

“Of course,” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Sent!” John announced. As soon as John handed the phone back to Sherlock the panels of the ceiling separated, and Mycroft floated down from the sky Mary-Poppins-Style and landed in his seat behind his desk.

“Brother, John, People-I-Don’t-Know,” he greeted them with a nod in their directions. “I heard that this sudden meeting was important,” he said as he closed his umbrella. “So what’s up?”

“Did you hear the news, brother?” Sherlock asked. “Clara Henley the cake maker was murdered last night.”

“LE GASP!” Mycroft gasped. “HOW?! WHY?! OH THE HUMANITY CLARA THE CAKE MAKER IS DEAD!” he sobbed. “Who did it, brother? Who killed Clara?” he asked.

“We were hoping you would know,” Sergeant Sally Donovan said. “I…at least I think that’s what we’re here for…”

“Whoa. Whoa. Sergeant Sally Donovan. Whoa,” Sherlock said, turning to her. “Who’s the consulting detective, here?” Sherlock asked.

“You are…” Sergeant Sally Donovan sighed, exasperated, while rolling her eyes.

“So if you were any smarter than Anderson you’d STFU,” he ordered.

“I’m Anderson,” Anderson clarified as Sergeant Sally Donovan pouted in her seat.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Anderson,” Mycroft said, extending his hand to Anderson across the desk for Anderson to shake.

“No it isn’t,” Sherlock said just as Anderson was about to shake Mycroft’s hand.

“Just kidding,” Mycroft said as he retracted his hand and folded both of his hands on his desk. “So why do you need me, brother? Surely you don’t think that _I_ killed dear Clara, do you?” he asked.

“Of course not, but you _were_ closest to Clara,” Sherlock revealed.

“Me?”

“You went to her shop every day, didn’t you?” he asked.

“HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW?” Mycroft yelled.

“I DEDUCED IT FROM YOUR _GIANT GUT, DUH!”_ Sherlock yelled back.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT I GOT IT FROM CAKE? I COULD’VE GOTTEN IT FROM TACO BELL!” Mycroft exploded.

“Are there even Taco Bells in England?” Sergeant Sally Donovan stopped pouting long enough to ask.

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!” Sherlock and Mycroft exclaimed.

“Boys. Boys. Calm down. This is about Clara Henley the cake maker, not about Taco Bell. _Or Mycroft’s gut,”_ John said, pointing at Sherlock before he could make a comment about Mycroft’s gut.

“Sorry about that,” Mycroft apologized to Sergeant Sally Donovan and Anderson.

“…I’m Anderson!” Anderson announced.

Mycroft blinked a few times after a moment, and then returned his attention to Sherlock and John.

“So what is it you want from me, brother? Don’t beat around the bush and don’t call me fat and just _tell meeeeeeeeeeeeee,_ ” Mycroft begged.

“We need to go to the cake-makery,” Sherlock said.

“Don’t you mean bakery –” John tired correct him.

“NAMES ARE IRRELEVANT WE MUST GO TO THE CAKE-MAKERY!” Sherlock yelled. “Brother, you knew the victim the most, can you come with us? You might have some information that could help us.”

“Let me check my schedule,” Mycroft said, and opened his umbrella and looking up over his head at the underside of the umbrella. “I’m free,” he decided after a moment, closing the umbrella.

“Wait you two are brothers?” Sergeant Sally Donovan asked.

“Have you _just_ realized this?” John asked in response. “They’ve been calling each other ‘brother’ this whole time.”

“Do you solve crimes, too?” she asked.

“No I run the entire nation CAN’T YOU TELL BY MY FANCY OFFICE THAT SERIOUSLY LACKS EYES IN THE MICROWAVE?”

“It was for an experiment…” Sherlock muttered defensively. “ANYWAY WE MUST GO!”

* * *

And so Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Anderson walked into the cake-makery.

“Sergeant Sally Donovan you’ve turned into Greg Lestrade during the time-skip-line-break!” Mycroft exclaimed.

“No, I _am_ Lestrade,” Lestrade said.

“I’m Anderson!” Anderson reminded everyone.

“Nobody asked you – wait, don’t you have a dentist appointment today?” Lestrade asked. “You’re marked off for today.”

“…I’m Anderson?”

“ONLY I CAN USE MY NAME AS AN EXCUSE!” Sherlock reminded everyone.

“We know, brother. We know. Anyway. Cake. I mean murder mystery,” Mycroft Mycrofted, rubbing his hands together.

“MURDER MYSTERY OH BOY!” Sherlock exclaimed, dancing into the cake-makery.

They came in to find the place in ruins. While Mycroft stood in the doorway, surveying the room with tears in his eyes.

“I’ll…I’ll stay with Sherlock,” John informed the others and followed Sherlock LIKE A STRAIGHT MAN to go investigate the cake-makery.

“…I need a hug,” Mycroft said.

“…NOT MY DIVISION,” Lestrade Lestraded and ran away.

Mycroft and Anderson glanced at each other, but before Mycroft could ask for a hug Anderson slinked away and followed John and Sherlock. He found them in a small room, but when he noticed Sherlock was crying he stayed in the doorway.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Sherlock shouted randomly from the room he and John were in. “I CAN’T DEDUCE _ANYTHING! WTF!”_ he exclaimed.

“Nothing?” John asked.

“I’VE HIT A DEAD END! THIS DOESN’T _HAPPEN TO ME!”_ he cried. “JAAAAAAAAAAAAWN WHAT IS THIS LIFE?!”

“Maybe you just overlooked something, Sherlock.”

“I DON’T OVERLOOK THINGS JOHN I’M SHERLOCK HOLMES GOD DAMNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” he sobbed, doubling over on the floor.

“Sherlock do you need a glass of water? Do you want a blanket?”

“JAWN I’M GOING TO HAVE AN ACCIDENT.”

“Oh boy we don’t want that.”

“I FEEL LIKE _ANDERSON!”_

“I’m Anderson!” Anderson announced.

It was then Sherlock perked up.

“WAIT,” he said. “WAIT A _MINUTE,”_ he stood up and walked over to Anderson. “This case isn’t getting solved. And you throw me off when I try to think but you’ve been here _this whole time!_ In fact you’ve been _keen_ on showing up to wherever we are, even to the point where you miss dentist appointments. But you _know_ that I can’t think when you’re around because you just have this big stupid aura of unintelligence that follows you wherever you go. So this raises a question. The question is why are you so keen on this case _not_ being solved, to the point where you skip dentist appointments just to follow me and John around? The answer is simple and I know the answer and the answer is because YOU’RE. NOT. ANDERSON!” Sherlock announced.

John Johned at Sherlock and then glanced Anderson to see what would happen next LIKE A STRAIGHT MAN. BUT THEN, SUDDENLY, ANDERSON PULLED HIS FACE OFF AND BECAME _MORIARTY!_

“HOW DID YOU KNOWWWWWWW?!” Moriarty asked.

“CAUSE I’M SHERLOCK HOLMES, BITCH!” Sherlock yelled. “AND THERE’S MORE! You disguised yourself as Anderson to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn’t solve this case so you could GET AWAY WITH KILLING CLARA HENLEY THE CAKE-MAKER!”

“NOOOOOOOO YOU GOT ME, SHERLOCK!” Moriarty exclaimed.

“Why, though?” John asked.

After a moment of silence as Moriarty thought over his answer, tears welled up in his dark eyes. In seconds, he burst into tears before them.

“CAUSE YESTERDAY WAS MY BIRTHDAAAAAAAAY!” he sobbed.

“So you killed the cake maker?” John asked, confused.

“NO SHE SPELLED MY NAME WRONG ON THE CAAAAAAAKE!”

“So you _killed the cake maker?”_ John repeated himself.

“Well that’s the only obvious answer, isn’t it?” Moriarty Moriartied, drying his tears with not-his-suit cause it’s a Westwood. “Where’s Sherlock?” he asked, looking up.

But Sherlock was already coming back into the room, pulling in Lestrade by the sleeve.

“LOOK! LESTRADE! IT’S MORIARTY! I CAUGHT THE KILLER! HE KILLED CLARA HENLEY THE CAKE-MAKER! I SOLVED THE MYSTERY! ALL BY MYSELF! OK JOHN HELPED! BUT _I AM THE MASTER COMMANDER!”_ he bragged.

It was then Mycroft came running to the rest of the group.

“WHO KILLED MY CLARA BBY?!” he shouted.

Everyone pointed at Moriarty (except for Moriarty – he just stood there like a stupid person with the Anderson mask in his hand).

“HE DID IT!” they all assured him (except for Moriarty cause of duh).

“TROLOLOL, MOTHER FUCKER,” Mycroft yelled and stabbed Moriarty with his umbrella.

“OK THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT MY DIVISION YOU JUST KILLED A MURDERER WUT DO,” Lestrade asked.

“Um…Throw him a feast?” John suggested.

“I LIKE THIS IDEA LET’S DO THAT!” Lestrade exclaimed.

And so they had a Moriarty-Is-Dead-Everybody-Party feast and nobody got into any trouble. And everyone lived happily ever after the end. Except for the dead people. And if Sherlock lived happily ever after there must have been a lot of dead people. Cause murders are his Christmas.

…Oh dear god what have I done.


End file.
